Dead Frontier/Issue 115
This is Issue #115 of Dead Frontier, titled Ten. ''This is the first issue of '''Volume 20. ' Issue 115 - Ten Cole spots Dean stuffing bags into one of the trucks as they pack up immediately after Dre's burial. Cole estimates they've got a few minutes left before they're back on the road again; just enough time for him to confront Dean. Lucy was adamant about not revealing any details about her argument with Dean. Cole, slightly frustrated and after a few minutes of unsuccessful prodding, put the issue to rest for the night. But he knows Dean is no stranger to running his mouth, so he's decided to go straight to him. "Dean," Cole calls out, walking over. Dean looks over, then closes the trunk with a sigh. "What?" Dean says. He wipes a few beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Tell me what happened yesterday." "What?" "With Lucy. What'd you say to her?" Dean has to suppress a smile. He'd assumed Cole wouldn't be able to satiate his curiosity, but coming straight to him for the details? He hadn't expected that. He silently contemplates whether to actually tell him what took place; but he asked. Can't deny him an answer, right? "You probably don't want to know." "Actually, I really do," Cole says; he doesn't like the sinister look that's overtaken Dean's eyes, and suddenly wonders if this was a mistake. "Okay. Your choice. I told her she used your dead girlfriend to get in your head and help her dad out and, yeah, she should feel bad about it." Cole pauses for a moment, trying to process his words but his sudden anger gets in the way. So many memories come back to him at once, it's too overwhelming. He wants to ask him if he really said something as fucked up as that. But why wouldn't he? Cole feels everything responsible for his recent frustrations accumulate. He feels a blast of anger, as everything that's went wrong and will go wrong becomes abundantly clear in his mind. He remembers things he wanted to forget a long time ago, but now those memories have been brought to the forefront of his mind. He can't deny that Dean is the source of too many of his frustrations, and now he's the closest target. "Why would you say that?" Cole finally asks. The hatred in his voice is overwhelming, and Dean feels himself get a little nervous at the sound of it. "I--I needed to prove a point. Not everyone here is a fucking saint," he says. Although he knows that Cole could retaliate any second, he finds his confidence rising; he can see the last of Cole's control faltering, struggling to hold it together. "Don't ever fucking--" Cole starts, but is surprised when Dean cuts him off. "I'll say whatever the hell I want. Especially if it's true. I wanna see you try to deny she did that. Please, try." "She had her reasons for--" "Are you defending her? Really?" "You don't know the whole story." "Are you that blinded?" Dean asks. "You think I'm fucked up...just think back to what she did once in a while. I won't seem that bad." Cole knows he needs to walk away. Rarely has he wanted to hurt someone so bad, but he uses the last of his self-control to hold back. He doesn't know how much longer he can; Dean has this look of enjoyment on his face that only makes it worse. Dean feels so much joy at the sight of Cole on the verge of breaking. The sense of realization in Cole's face because he knows he's right: he wishes he could snap a picture of it. He's tired of being the verbal punching bag here, the burden of dirty looks. And he wants revenge in the only way he knows how. "I've got all your fucking secrets, man," Dean says. "Shit spreads, but I don't say anything. I never say anything, but I've got so much dirt on you--holy shit, it's unbelieveable. But now that you people want to point me out as the bad guy, the fucking guy who's stealing everything because 'he's Dean, who else could it be?'--I'm not fucking taking it anymore. I dare you to try and find some skeletons in my closet--I've got yours already." "You're such a piece of shit. Get over yourself." Dean smiles and lets out a little laugh. Fucking perfect. "I'm a piece of shit? You want to throw out accusations like that?" Cole hesitates and Dean uses his bit of uncertainty to his advantage and continues. "Let me ask you a question," Dean says slowly. "No. I'm fucking done," Cole says. He goes to walk away, but Dean pulls him the arm. Cole tugs his sleeve away and turns to him. "It's a great question. I promise." He pauses. "Do you know your ten commandments, Cole?" "Excuse me? I don't fucking go to church. What are you talking about?" "Well, I did. I'll list them off for you. Take a listen." Cole knows it can only go downhill from here, but he can't pull himself away from Dean's words for some reason. "Thou shall not have any other Gods before Me," Dean begins, and he counts off the rest on his fingers. He says each one with almost psychopathic glee, becoming more eager the farther along the list he goes. "Thou shall not make any graven images unto thee. "Thou shall not take the name of the Lord in vain. "Remember the Sabbath day. "Thou shall not steal. "Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor. "Thou shall not covet." Here, Dean pauses, sticking out seven fingers. The smallest of grins forms on his face as he says the next one. "Thou shall honor thy father, and...thy mother," Dean says. "Thou shall not kill." Any response Cole has catches in his throat. Dean's only lifting nine fingers. Yet, Cole can't recollect the last one. Dean looks oddly eager, the last commandment hanging on his lips. He looks Cole directly in the eyes and says, "Thou shall not commit adultery." There's a long pause; the only thing holding back Cole's anger is his sudden shock. His left hand tightens around his cane, and the other trembles at his side. "I don't know about those other seven...but those last three are really interesting to me," Dean says. "You...you know anything about them?" A thin, sickly woman, her blonde hair missing in clumps, sits on a dingy couch in a cramped living room. Her eyes are stinging with tears, but she sits motionless on the couch, waiting patiently. When the door opens, she doesn't react. A tall young man walks in, barely eighteen. He mutters a hello and walks past her, heading for the fridge immediately. "I tried calling you," the woman says, but he sifts through the fridge, unresponsive. "Cole," she says with a little more harshness in her tone. "What?" he replies. "I tried calling you," she repeats. "Oh. I was busy. Sorry." "Did you pick up my medication?" Cole groans and closes the fridge. "I forgot. Sorry," he says. "I'll go now." "It's one in the morning." "You want the medication or not? Jesus..." He shakes his head, checks his back pocket for his keys, and he's out the door again. Cole's eyes tear up from this unexpected barrage of memories and emotions. Dean wasn't expecting a response this serious...but it's more than he could've asked for. Cole presses his boot to Toby's throat, looking him directly in his face. It hurts him to, but he can't look away. The life seeps out of Toby's face, and with the last of his energy, he seemingly pleads to Cole with his eyes. Spare him. He didn't want to do this; John forced him to. Cole doesn't relent. This is the only way he'll live and he...he deserves it more than Toby, he tells himself. He has people to go back to. This guy, he has nothing. This...this is justified. Cole suddenly feels sick to his stomach at the direction his thoughts are going. Toby's struggling, wheezing, but Cole only increases the pressure of his foot on his neck to make it quicker for him. For both of them. Dean swallows hard as Cole grabs him by the collar. Dean was ready for this, and he shuts his eyes, waiting for the blow. Cole hits redial again and presses the phone to his ear. It rings again, but only for a couple seconds. Not nearly as long as it should. He soon gets the message to leave a voicemail. "Hannah, I need you to pick up. Please, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking--I was drunk, I--she , doesn't mean anything to me. It meant nothing, she means nothing...it was--it was stupid, and I'm sorry." He realizes how dumb and pathetic he sounds and sighs to himself. She must be laughing on the other end of the phone. Or crying her eyes out. Either option makes him feel just as terrible. The view of his living room in front of him has blurred with the appearance of tears, and the severity of how big a mistake this is finally hits him. "I love '''you'. No one...no one else. Please--just--I wanna talk about this."'' Cole stares Dean in the eye then lets go of his shirt. Cole backs away slowly and finds the courage to admit to himself that Dean...has a point. ---- “What the hell was that about?” Tora asks, jogging over from where they were set up yesterday and stopping Cole with a hand to his chest. His eyes are glassy and his hands shake wildly. It’s almost as if he wants to speak, but something’s holding him back. “Cole? You--you look like you’re gonna pass out. You okay?” “I’m, uh--no. No, I’m not,” he mutters, barely audible. Tora shoots Dean a glare. He’s already walked away--off to grab more bags--but he sneaks a quick, menacing look at them. “Come on. You probably just need to sit down.” She interlocks her arm with his and leads him to one of the trucks. She opens the door and allows him to enter, then slides in next to him. A few others have noticed Cole’s oddly anxious state, but now that he and Tora are out of sight, they’ve seemed to blown it off. “What’s the matter?” she asks. Rarely has she seen him look so vulnerable and broken, almost like a child separated from his mother. She doesn’t know if it’s more heartbreaking or scary. She grabs his hands to stop the trembling, but his entire body has deteriorated into a shaking fit. “I--” he says, but he stops immediately. Then, she feels almost intrusive: he tries to keep himself together, but she watches as the last of his resolve slowly crumbles. Before he divulges into sobs, she pulls him into a hug. He wraps his arms around her tightly, those memories still playing over and over again in his mind--as clear as ever. He’s lost all control, weeping until it’s time for them to hit the road again. ---- Lienne sits in the passenger seat of one of the trucks, with Adam driving. She’s been almost entirely silent since Dre’s funeral and denied all offers of comfort. That same day, they were just talking, joking, laughing. Then--gone. It’s unbelievable. He was fine. He was completely fine. No signs of anything, and then he drops dead. It’s not like he was 75; he was only 22, and your heart just doesn’t give out like that. She’s not usually one for suspicion, especially not amongst a group of people she trusts immensely, but she can’t think of any other option. Someone here isn’t who they say. If it’s one of the new guys or not, she doesn’t know, but she does know she’s going to end whatever games they’re playing. Daniel and Tora sit in the same truck as Lienne, but in the back most row of seats. They’ve been talking, mostly in hushed voices, already aware of the terrible moods everyone is in. “That’s his name, right? Cole? Is he, uh...is he alright in the head, y’know?” Daniel asks. “He’s fine,” Tora says, defending Cole quickly. “He’s had a hard time; I’d cut him some slack.” “Oh. I just wanted to make sure. Looked like he was gonna fucking murder Dean for a quick second there.” “Who could blame him? You just know he said something fucked up, if Cole reacted like that. I--I don’t even want to know, to be honest.” “You think it’s one of them? They seem to be the most...hotheaded.” “So that means they’d steal our food? Look, all I’ve got on Dean is that he’s a dickhead. And maybe a dickhead steals food, I don’t know. I’ve known him for two months, I don’t think I’m really in the position to judge. But I’ve known Cole for a year, and if you’ve ever met someone as selfless as him, I’ probably wouldn't believe it.” Daniel’s surprised--and a little impressed--at how she speaks with such conviction. “So it’s not him. But we’ll figure it out.” ---- Jake sits at the rear of one of the trucks with Cole during a standard gas refill. This honestly isn’t Jake’s favorite seat; something’s obviously bugging Cole, so much so his eyes are still moist, but Jake can’t force himself to say anything, although he knows he should. He finally builds up his courage, praying Cole doesn’t lash out at him. “You okay, dude?” Jake asks, and he wrings his hands together. Cole pauses, looking out his window. “Yeah. I’m good,” he says. There’s an uncomfortable silence that Jake feels pressured to fill. “S-some shit with Dean, r-right?” Cole’s jaw tightens, and Jake determines that was probably the wrong thing to ask. “Yeah. I kind of want to choke him. Is that bad?” “Kind of. But h-he’s an ass so...I’m sure we’ll all f-forgive you.” Cole smiles, and Jake feels a bit of relief at his sudden change in mood. “What’d he even d-do?” Jake asks, and Cole turns to him for the first time. For some reason, Cole doesn’t feel the same kind of shame when he thinks about revealing the truth behind his altercation with Dean to Jake, compared to everyone else. This kid has been through so much himself, he knows he won’t judge him. Cole looks away again, then back to the window, and down at his lap. “He finally told me the truth. I can’t really blame him; it’s...probably a good thing,” Cole says. “Can finally stop fooling myself.” “Truth...about what?” “That I’m a terrible fucking person,” Cole says. It’s mostly an admission to himself, and he spits the words out venomously. “First step toward change is acceptance, right?” Jake feels an unexpected wave of pity. There’s no doubt Cole believes everything he says, and each word leaves his mouth with so much sorrow Jake almost can’t believe it. The only guy that was there for him when his mom died, the only person besides her that ever showed any type of acceptance and care for him, and he thinks he’s a shitty person. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he’s not sure where he’d be, or who he’d be, if Cole wasn’t there those few crucial times. Unfortunately, he doesn’t really have to most eloquent way with words. “Well...Dean can suck a dick, for all I c-care,” Jake says. Cole glances at him, then chuckles sadly. “Thanks for your wise words, man,” Cole says. Jake smiles, but it fades as an idea pops into his head. He reluctantly reaches his hand into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a rectangular box. He hands it to Cole, who takes it hesitantly. “Why do you have these?” Cole asks. He looks down at the box, something he hasn’t seen in what feels like forever: a carton of cigarettes. He opens it and sees there are only three left. “I found them.” “When?” “Like l-last week,” Jake says. Jake reaches into the pocket of his jeans this time and pulls out a lighter. “You smoke?” “Sort of.” “What the hell? Since when?” “....Since last week. You w-want ‘em or not? I’m sure s-someone else will b-be real grateful for ‘em.” Cole can’t even be angry at him. He finds his smoking revelation more amusing than anything, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Some kind of scolding is probably in order, but he can’t dictate what this kid does. “No more smoking. It’s bad for you,” Cole says as he takes the lighter from him. ---- “Adam.” Adam fills up one of the trucks with a red gas can, shaking the last bits of liquid inside. “Hold on,” he says. He finishes up, then stands up straight and turns to see Chloe standing there. He suddenly feels anxious, and he sets the can on the ground next to him. “Do you have a second?” she asks. “We’re gonna get going soon. I don’t--” “It’s important.” He swallows hard, then nods reluctantly. He’s not entirely sure how he feels about them. He’s known her for so long, and this just seemed to come out of nowhere. She must be extremely good at hiding her feelings, because he can’t pinpoint exactly where this change in heart came from. He knows he’s not entirely innocent either; he could have easily denied her, he didn’t. As confused as he is, he knows why he went through with it so easily. For one, Chloe’s always been pretty to him. But there are tons of pretty girls, and he never thought of her...like that. Second, he can’t forget all she’s done for him--for everyone in general. Would he be just a test subject without her? Or dead from Hector’s gunshot? But with Griffin’s death only a few months behind them, he’s unsure whether she’s actually sure about this or she’s using him to fill some kind of void. “I need to know where we stand,” she says. Adam thinks of an answer. “It...kind of depends on you,” he says. “I...I’m not against it. Us, I mean. Y’know.” “You’re not?” She’s honestly surprised by his answer. “No harm done, right?” “I...I guess not.” She wastes no time kissing him again. Even with the stresses of late less prominent than they were last night, he can’t deny how much he enjoys it. They hear a high-pitched whistle and break to see Duke walk by with a gas can in one hand, making a thumbs-up gesture with the other. ---- “What’s wrong with your eye?” Ivy blurts out as they continue their drive. Hunter sits on her left, and Farrah sits next to him, closest to the door. Hunter looks down at Ivy with a forced smile. “Cute kid,” he says. “She’s just curious,” Farrah says. “Maybe, but what if I asked ya why your fucking tits are lopsided? I’m just curious,” he says sarcastically. “One’s bigger than the other; didn’t you notice?” Duke falls into hysterical laughter from the front seat and Lienne is forced to calm him down. “Damn, man. You’re fucking great,” he says through tearful eyes. “Thank you. I try.” “Fuck you,” Farrah says. “Seriously.” “Yeah, hi, can we cool the cursing in front of Ivy please?” Lienne suggests, looking at Farrah and Hunter through the rearview mirror. “She’s gotta use her fucking ears. I’ve got no censor. Can’t fucking help it,” Hunter says, dragging out each f-bomb. Lienne sighs, not in the mood, and reverts her eyes back to the road. “Not gonna tell her?” Farrah asks him. “Stop hiding behind the stupid jokes.” “Jealous you just can’t hid behind the makeup anymore, are you?” Farrah smirks at him, then leans over to Ivy. “His dad hit him in the eye with a baseball bat when he was six,” she says. “Why?” Ivy asks. “‘Cause he was a meth addict and Hunter doesn’t know how to shut his mouth.” Duke and Lienne glance at each other, a little uncomfortable with the direction this is going. “Neither can someone else, it looks like,” Hunter says, trying to seem lighthearted. He likes Farrah--he really does--but this subject strikes a nerve with him. He doesn’t care who you are: if you want to go down this path, you better expect some hurt to come your way. “Looks like I'm not the only one with daddy problems, either. Or--or was it your uncle? I forget.” Immediately, he regrets when the words come out of his mouth. He’s told himself not to let what people say get to him too much--but sometimes, he can’t help but retaliate. Farrah’s face falls immediately, and she has to force herself not to burst into tears. “Stop the car,” she says, still staring at Hunter. “Uh…” Duke says. “Stop the fucking car!” she screams. “Holy shit, okay,” Duke says, and he hits the breaks. He honks to alert the rest of the trucks in front of him, and they stop at his beckoning. Farrah glares one last time at Hunter before rushing out of the car, wiping at the tears on her face. It only takes a few minutes for Cedric to peek his head in and take Farrah’s spot next to Hunter. “She told me to switch with her so…” Cedric says, closing the door. “Hi,” Ivy says to him, and he waves at her. Hunter keeps his eyes pressed forward. They’re heavy with a mix of regret and fury and he stares at himself in the rearview mirror. Sometimes, he’s not really sure why he does what he does. “I apologize,” Hunter says as they continue driving again. “That was my fault.” He looks at Ivy and forces an apologetic smile, but she avoids his gaze, looking out the window. He sighs at himself, and returns his stare out the windshield. Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories